Dial M For Mutant
by nyssa123
Summary: Film Noir AU. Erik is a hardboiled private eye. Charles is a femme fatale. There are fedoras and trench coats and suspenders and gun holsters and rainy nights and monotone first-person narration and furious smoking.
1. In Which I Am Hired

The minute he walked in my door, I knew he was trouble. I had seen him through the frosted glass of my door, the lines of his body broken up by the Venetian blinds on my windows, but his silhouette didn't do him justice. He lounged against my desk, sipping the scotch I had poured him and watching me from under his eyelashes. He was short and slim, with dark brown hair that flopped over his forehead and big blue eyes like a broad. He leaned over my desk, swaying his hips seductively under his suede trench coat.

"I don't come to this part of town often, Mr. Lensherr, but a friend told me that you're the best gumshoe in the city." His voice was cultured and smooth, his British accent giving away his upper crust origins. He'd probably never been south of Fifth Avenue, if the cut of his suit was anything to go by. I fingered the sharp edges of the business card he'd handed me as he came in.

"I prefer the term 'freelance detective', Mr. Xavier." I said coolly, re-filling my drink from the half-empty bottle of Jack on my desk. "But your friend is right. If you've got a problem, I can solve it. So what is it?" The glass was cool against my lips as I gulped down my hooch, the ice cubes rattling against the sides. "Somebody trying to chisel you out of the family fortune? Get caught with your pants down and now the butler's trying to bleed you?"

"Nothing so unsavory, detective. I've got a reputation to uphold; I'm very careful about my actions." He smiled thinly, his cherry red lips looking sweeter than my grandmother's _schnitzel_. "Unfortunately, my sister isn't quite so concerned with our family's good name."

"I see." I had heard the Xavier name before- who hadn't, in this town- and I finally connected the name to the rumors. "Raven, isn't that the kitten?"

Xavier nodded grimly. "You've heard of her exploits, then. My sister and I have always been very close, since we were children, but lately she's been getting funny. She goes out with men I don't know, she's started drinking hard liquor, and she's cut her hair in a bob- you know, like all the girls are doing these days." He sat down in the leather chair I put out for clients, swirling the scotch around in his glass contemplatively. "I'm not a closed-minded man, Mr. Lensherr, I know that I can't hold onto my baby sister forever. But that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to worry about her."

I was getting bored. "I don't need your life story, Mr. Xavier. What do you want from me?"

He polished off his drink, loosening his tie as he held it out to be refilled. I was more than happy to oblige, the sight of his milky throat one Hell of an incentive to get him loose. "I'll cut to the chase. Raven's fallen in with a man I don't trust, the sort of guy that makes your skin crawl. You know the type."

I did. Half of them were my informants and the other half caused me internal bleeding on a daily basis.

"She thinks he's the bee's knees, the cat's pajamas. She's only twenty-two; she can't tell a saint from a sinner, but I can. I've seen this bum, spent time in a room with him, and I don't trust him an inch. I sure as syrup don't trust him with my sister. And now he's come to my step-father and asked to marry her."

"My condolences, but I don't see where I come in."

"I'm good at reading people, but all I've got to go on that he's a skid rogue is my gut feeling. If I'm going to sink this punk, I need some good wire on him." He finished his drink in one gulp, his eyes meeting mine over the rim, narrowed and steely. "And I want him to go down deeper than the _Titanic_."

Xavier was pretty damn serious. He may have looked like a daisy, but he projected power like a man twice his size. He reminded me of a tommy-gun, hiding lead underneath a shiny smooth exterior. "You seem pretty set on getting rid of this guy. Are you sure you aren't just being over-protective of your sis?"

"Oh, I'm sure." He laughed ruefully. "If you'd seen this guy, you'd understand. As it is, you'll get it the moment you start tailing him. He's a heel."

"You seem pretty sure I'm gonna take your case. What makes you think I want your business?" I was bluffing. I hadn't had a case in weeks, and he'd just drank the last of my scotch. But sometimes you gotta play hard to get.

"Because I'm willing to pay as much as it takes, Mr. Lensherr. No sum is too high. I'm sure you know that my fortune is pretty much endless, and I'll do anything to see my sister safe and away from danger. She deserves better than Sebastian Shaw."

My blood ran cold in my veins, cold as the ice melting in the bottom of my glass. "What did you say his name was?"

Xavier watched me as he fixed his tie, starting to do up the buttons of his coat. "Sebastian Shaw."

Anger flared up in my gut, mixing with a burst of excitement. _This could be my chance. _I dropped the empty bottle of Glenfiddich in my drawer and replaced it on my desk with Magda. She gleamed in the low light of the office, black and silver beside the scattered papers and pens. Xavier eyed her nervously.

"I take it that means you're interested?"

"I'm more than interested." I slipped Magda into my shoulder holster and shrugged on my coat, the heavy weight of the Beretta comforting against my skin. I pulled a cigarette from the packet on my desk, sheltering the flame of my lighter in my cupped hands and taking a drag as I grabbed my fedora from the rack by the door.

"I'm hired."


	2. In Which I Drink Terrible American Beer

When I left the office, it was raining. It was always raining. I popped up my collar against the wind and headed off down the street. I hoped that the call I had made wouldn't be in vain and than my contact would show up at the meeting place I had specified. I knew exactly where I was headed; I could make the walk there in my sleep. Not that you'd want to sleep in this neighborhood.

The Cerebro was a dive. That was putting it nicely-nicely. If The Cerebro was a huge stinking hunk of rotting cheese, then its clientele were swarming rats. It was dirty, it was hazy, it was a clip joint of the worst kind. The men were greaseballs and goons and the ladies were members of the oldest profession. The best liquor they had was bathtub gin left over from Prohibition, and you couldn't move an inch without someone trying to steal your wallet or slip you a Mickey Finn.

The Cerebro was a hole. But it was my hole.

I walked up past the whores lounging on the steps and sitting legs-spread-wide on the curb. I was almost in the door when I felt a tug on my sleeve. I spun around, ready to punch out someone's lights.

"Erik! You big lug, c'mere!" A tiny, pixie-like girl in too much makeup grinned up at me, hands on her hips. She pulled me into a rib-crushing hug and then smoothed down the front of my coat, yanking me under the awning of the club. "Murder, I haven't seen you in weeks!"

"Sorry Angel, I've been working like crazy. What's the story?" Angel Salvadore was my right hand babe, a lady-of-the-night with a heart of gold and a kick like an ox. She had been my eyes and ears on the street ever since I first started up the flatfoot business, and we were as close as a private dick and an underage hooker could be without having been Biblical. She had offered once; I had bought her a sandwich and told her the only doll I got involved with was Magda.

She waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, nothin' much. Coupla girls got nailed by the coppers a few days ago, but Easy Joe says they aren't gonna go to the big house. The arresting officer was that Cassidy clown, and everyone knows his sisters work in the Ice Queen's Brothel. It was a joke, but it got some Johns a bit wiggy. Business has been slow."

"Sorry to hear that, dollface. You need some extra green? I can lend you a couple if you're hard up."

"You're not gonna chisel me, Shylock." She teased. "I know all about you Yids."

I snorted, knowing for a fact that Angel's father was a member of the local synagogue. "Hypocritical as well as greedy? That's a Hell of a stereotype we've got going there."

She punched me lightly on the arm. "_Baruch adenoi _go fuck yourself, Lensherr. Just for that, you're not invited to the _seder_ next month."

"You wound me, doll. You really do." I offered her a cigarette, which she took gratefully. She leaned forward to let me light it, blowing smoke into the rainy night. "Look, I gotta talk to a guy about a thing. Will you be okay if I go inside?"

"'Course I will be. Stop acting like my daddy." She waved me away, smiling around the snipe. "I'll see you around, gumshoe."

I headed inside, bracing myself for the sight of a bunch of pills having a ring-a-ding-ding on rot gut and cheap whiskey. The air inside The Cerebro was choked with smoke and the smell of sticky, spilt alcohol and sweat. I slid into the bar, settling onto the cracked leather seats and double checking that my wallet was still where it was supposed to be before shoving a crumpled bill at the bartender and ordering a glass of whatever cost the least. I took a sip of the lukewarm American beer that he dropped in front of me and grimaced. I missed Bitburger.

"Well well well, Mr. Lensherr. Right on time, as always." A voice growled in my ear. I turned around slowly, smirking at the woman leaning on the bar beside me. She scowled. At a glance you could see she was uncomfortable in the atmosphere of The Cerebro: She was the only woman who wasn't dressed like a prostitute. The prime reason for that being that she wasn't.

"Detective MacTaggart. How pleasant to see you again. I'm so glad you decided to come." I smiled at my ex-partner. Moira was the only elbow on the force, and a damn fine cop. It had been a while since we last saw each other, and we hadn't parted on the best of terms. To make a long story short, I had needed stitches. Lots of them.

"Cut the horse shit, Erik, you know I couldn't leave you hanging." She grabbed my beer, taking a swig and then making a face. "That is absolutely horrible."

"You're telling me. I paid for it."

She sighed, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "I had to get out of bed to come here, Erik. I have to work on a murder case in the morning. This had better be good."

"I need some information on Sebastian Shaw."

Moira groaned. "Erik, not again."

"It's not like all the other times."

"I'm not going to help you get revenge on Shaw. I've told you, I can deal with you doing this stupid private eye business, but I'm not going to let you become a vigilante. Not while I'm still a police officer." She took another swill of my beer. "Jesus, Erik, I thought we were done with this."

"It's not for revenge, Moira, will you just listen to me? It's for a case I'm working on, I swear on my mother's grave." Of all people, Moira knew how much that meant. She looked up at me and knew that I was serious.

"Shit. All right, fine. What do you need?"

"I hear he's running with a new dame. Know anything about it?" I exhaled smoke into the air, holding the dwindling remains of my cigarette between my thumb and forefinger. Moira shrugged.

"That's not exactly my department, Erik. I'm working homicide now, not vice, so I haven't been paying much attention to Shaw these days." I opened my mouth, but she cut me off with a leather-gloved finger pointed straight at my face. "I'm not finished. Just because I'm not obsessed like you doesn't mean I've completely stopped keeping an eye on him. He's been taking out Raven Xavier, and he's given her some ice that would put the Queen to shame. She's ecstatic."

"How do you know?"

She gave me a sheepish look. "I'm friends with her brother. He's spent the past few weeks seething about it. They're close, you know."

I turned my fingers into quotation marks. "Close like a brother and sister should be or close like…?"

Moira slapped my hands down, disgusted. "No, Jesus, it's not like that. He's just overprotective of her. She's a good kid, she's just fallen in with the wrong crowd."

"Was it you that recommended me to him?" I asked. Moira cocked an eyebrow.

"No. He's hired you?"

"Just to tail them. He wants to get some dirt on Shaw, force him to break him up with his sister."

"A noble pursuit." Moira reached for the beer, then shook her head and ordered a gin and tonic. I paid. "I'm a little surprised you didn't have evidence of his little activities right there in your office."

I scowled. "You know how slippery Shaw is. If I'd had anything on him, I wouldn't be spending my evenings photographing cheating wives, would I?"

"Good point." Moira polished off her drink and clapped a hand on my shoulder, smiling ruefully. "I've gotta go, Erik. Big day in the morning."

"What case are you working on?"

"You know I'm not supposed to tell you." There was a moment of silence before she rolled her eyes. "Missing persons case. We're looking for Kitty Pride, a waitress from the heights. She disappeared from work one night and no one's seen her since; it's like she just walked through the wall and was gone. There's suspicion that she's been murdered by her boyfriend, but until he gives us something we're stuck interrogating him." She sighed. "Logan's leading the investigation, and you know how he can get."

I winced. "I'd hate to be the suspect."

She nodded. "It doesn't sit well with Armando at all, but he's a fast learner. Soon he'll be as good a cop as you were."

I frowned at the mention of her new partner: my replacement. I had known Armando when he first started as a beat cop, and he was a good kid, but I couldn't help but feel jealous that he had my old job. I took a gulp of the awful American beer, and if possible it tasted more bitter than ever.

Moira stood up, pulling her coat tighter around her and smiling sadly. "I'll see you around, Erik. Take care of yourself, okay?"

I watched her retreating form as she vanished in the haze of the bar, heading towards the door. Regret spiked sharp through my brain, and I left without finishing my drink, flicking the butt of my cigarette to the ground as I made my way out the door.

It was still raining, and water dripped off the brim of my hat. The streets were nearly empty this time of night, far away from the flickering neon signs that led into the more populated parts of town. Aside from the occasional hooker or alley cat, I was alone on my walk.

Or so I thought.

I should have seen it coming, in retrospect, but it all happened pretty fast. One second I was striding down the street and the next I had hit the pavement. The wind was knocked right out of me and I gasped for air as a shiny-shoed foot came down on my chest. I looked up at my attacker, looming above me, but with the streetlight behind him his face was more shadowy than a Caravaggio painting. He ground his heel down on my sternum and bent low until I could feel his breath hot on my face.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from Raven Xavier." He growled in a heavy Russian accent. "And Sebastian Shaw."

"Give me one good reason."

He gave me six. His foot slammed into my side like a jackhammer, pounding against my ribs harder than tenth grade calculus. One-two-three, I heard something crack. He kicked my chin, forcing my head up and my jaws together with a loud clack and a rattle of teeth. Four-five-six, he punched me in the stomach, brass knuckles cold through my shirt.

He kicked me again for good measure and then stopped. When I glanced up, my head pounding and my vision fuzzy, he had disappeared as quickly as he had shown up in the first place. If not for the blood staining my jacket, you would never have known he had been there.

I hauled myself up using a fire hydrant for balance. Blinking until the world stopped spinning. When I spat, it was red against the grey sidewalk and washed away almost instantly in the rain. I reached into my mouth and wiggled one of my teeth, thanking my lucky stars it had only been loosened and not kicked out. I've had a lot of compliments on my teeth: people say they're intimidating. The Human Shark would be a lot less impressive with a gap in his grin.

I hurt like Hell, but I'd lived through worse. I moved forward to my next stop of the night, albeit with a new limp and a new motivation. My attackers' plan had backfired spectacularly- I was more interested in this case than ever. And I'd be damned if a few bruises and a little internal bleeding would stop me.


	3. In Which There Are Whores

I would be hesitant to call the place in front of me a whorehouse. The red brick façade was shiny and well maintained, none of the windows were broken, and the lights all worked. From the outside it looked like an office building or the apartment of a lawyer or a socialite. No, it wasn't anything as cheap as a whorehouse. It was a brothel.

I rang the bell and leaned back against the railing as I waited. The door swung open almost immediately- good service- revealing a dame with bright red lips and smoky eyeliner. She had hair that looked like it was on fire and was wearing a lacy chemise slip and stiletto heels. I grinned at her.

"Hey, dollface. Is your boss at home?"

She frowned, tilting her hip sideways and pouting. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Don't give me that. Tell her it's Erik Lensherr; she knows me." I wasn't in the mood to play games. The girl huffed and went back inside, but she returned a few minutes later and beckoned me inside.

"Come on in."

She led me through the brownstone, past the various rooms and hallways that made up the labyrinthine structure. I couldn't avoid glancing in at the broads in various states of undress, from slinky nightgowns to lingerie to less. The doors were open if they were free. If they were closed you could hear everything that was going on behind them. Thin walls.

The redhead led me upstairs. The brothel was just as opulent as I remembered it- the walls were plush velvet, the light fixtures burnished brass and silver. My shoes sank into the carpet like it was sponge cake, and the railing I held onto as I ascended the stairs was covered in a warm leather sheath. I was impressed, though the whole place made me feel slightly ill.

"Ms. Frost will see you now." The redhead said as we stopped outside a large door of dark cherry wood. "We're busy tonight, so don't waste her time." She stalked back down the stairs as I let myself in, her hips swaying suggestively as she went.

"Shut the door behind you." I did as I was told and turned to see my host. Emma Frost was the sort of woman that made men uncomfortable just by looking at her. She was a tall, willowy champagne blonde with gams that went on forever and a taste for garter belts. She was curvier than a parabola and just as infuriating. Over the years she had risen from a two-bit whore in the worst part of town to the richest madam in town. Her cold heart and insatiable taste for diamonds had earned her the nickname The Ice Queen. It seemed an especially apt moniker tonight- she was decked out in an ivory bra and panties that left little to the imagination and a pair of huge, shimmery studs graced her earlobes while a choker circling her throat glinted in the low light of the room. She watched me coolly over a glass of clear vodka, her smoke dangling from the end of a long, elegant silver-and-black cigarette holder. "I see Jean got you here in one piece, Mr. Lensherr. It's a pleasure."

"The feeling is mutual, Frost." I gestured to the burgundy armchair in the corner of the room. "Can I sit?"

She smiled deviously. "Of course. Our first priority is the comfort of gentlemen such as yourself."

"I'm not here as one of your 'gentlemen', I'm afraid." I helped myself to a drink. "I need to know if Shaw's been here recently."

Emma scowled. "Sebastian and I are no longer on speaking terms. He was here last week, but I didn't said two words to him."

"Lover's spat?" It was well known in the underground that Sebastian Shaw and Emma Frost had on on-again, off-again relationship that made Antony and Cleopatra look like a stable couple. He'd taken her out to fancy events a few times, raising scandal in the upper-crust community, but since no one wanted to admit to knowing who she was or what she did it had blow over silently. Most of the politicians in the city had spent time with one or more of Emma's girls, but it wasn't a fact any of them wanted to admit.

"You could say that." Emma took a dainty sip from her glass. "He decided he didn't have time for me, what with his new dame. He'll be back." Her eyes flickered sinisterly. "You do know about his girl?"

"The Xavier kid, right?"

She snorted. "The 'Xavier kid' is the brother. She's the Xavier baby. The girl isn't even twenty-five. It's a joke. And anyway, everyone knows Sebastian's only treating her like a queen 'cause he's after the Xavier's empire."

"I had that figured out." I set down my drink on the table beside the bed where Emma was lounging and steepled my fingers beneath my chin. "Do you know which of your girls Shaw used the last time he was here? I want to talk to them, see if they know the low down."

"I always know who's slept with who, Lensherr. It's my job." She stood up and offered her hand. I took it. Her skin was as cold as… well, ice. "This way."

I was led down the hall to a small room near the stairwell. The broad inside was tall and slim and carefully arranging a vase of flowers in the nude, her dark skin contrasting sharply with the white hair cascading down her back. Emma nodded at her.

"Ororo, there's someone here to see you."

She turned around, eyeing me appraisingly. "Fifteen or thirty minute session?"

"Five." I said, grabbing a dressing gown from the back of the door and tossing it to her. "Here, put this on. I want to ask you some questions."

Ororo sat down on the bed, nervously shrugging on the sheer fabric. It didn't hide much, but it was better than nothing at all. "Am I in trouble?"

"No, sweetie, it's not about you. Don't worry." Emma voice had softened slightly, her arms crossed over her ample chest as she leaned against the doorframe.

I held up the crumpled photo of Shaw that I always carried in my wallet. It was fuzzy black and white, taken soon after I was thrown out of the police force, and ripped and torn from many a night of drunken abuse. There were a few tiny holes in his face from where I had poked needles and pins through the photo in a parody of a voodoo doll. "Have you ever serviced this man?"

She nodded. "Yeah, last week. He was a bit too grabby with his paws for my taste, and he was kinda rough. He talked sweet, but he was a real jerk when we got into bed."

"He's like that." Emma nodded ruefully. I folded the photo back into my pocket.

"Did you hear him say anything suspicious? Anything interesting? Did he mention anyplace he may have been going?"

She shook her head. "Naw, he was pretty quiet about himself." She stared down at her folded hands for a moment before looking up and snapping her fingers. "Wait! He said something about a party on the sixteenth. He said that he was gonna propose to his girlfriend, even though he got better lays here. Is that good?"

"Not for her." I said grimly. "Did he mention where the party was, or when?"

"No. Sorry." She sighed. "I wish I could give you more."

"It's okay, baby, you've been a lot of help." I stood up and looked at Emma. "You got the down low on this party he was yapping about?"

Emma frowned. "He probably meant the Stryker ball. It's this big gathering of all the fancy-types in the city where they talk about how much money they have and grope their neighbors' wives in the cloakrooms. Sebastian took me one year." She snorted. "Say what you will about the sort of people I associate with in this line of business: at least they're honest about the fact that they're horrible people. William Stryker and his business partner Carl Hendry host this get together every year to show off that he's the richest man in the city and to eye up the competition. So far the only people that are anywhere close to him are the Xavier's and Sebastian. And word on the street is that Hendry's been planning to jump Stryker's ship and head over to Shaw." A smile flickered at the edges of her lips coyly. "He probably isn't too happy about that."

"Aces. You're a doll, Frost." I kissed her hand and tipped my hat to Ororo, who was looking cold in her miniscule covering. "I'll leave you ladies to your work. Good evening."


	4. In Which I Am Followed

I left the brothel through the back door, being careful to avoid the main roads. I stuck to alleyways and back streets and kept my eyes and ears on the alert for suspicious noises, not wanting to chance getting jumped again. I seemed to be alone, except for the rare scraggly tomcat, when I heard a clatter and a crash behind me. I spun around, Magda drawn and glinting in the night light of the city.

"Who's there? Come out with your hands in the air, I've got a gat and I'm not afraid to use it!" I growled. There was an awkward shuffle of movement from behind some trashcans and I focused Magda's barrel there, squinting out from under the brim of my fedora. A blonde head poked out from the shadows, followed by a lanky body and a sheepish face.

"Hey, Mr. Lensherr." The boy- he was barely older than eighteen- muttered. "What's up?"

I groaned, lowering Magda. "Alex, what are you doing here?"

"I heard from Angel that you were on a new case, and I wanted to help out." He shuffled closer, shoulders hunched guiltily. "I mean, you're always complaining that you don't have enough hands, right?"

Alex was a kid I'd met a few years back on a job in the Bronx. He had just been released from jail and was the prime suspect in a murder case Moira and I had been working on- together we had proved that he was innocent and saved him from the hotsquat. Ever since he had been begging to work with me, and he seemed to think he was my unofficial partner. He was a good guy, and smart, but kind of a pain in the ass.

"Alex, go home. I'm busy, kid." I patted him on the shoulder awkwardly and steered him towards the mouth of the alley. "You're great, and if I need any help I'll call you, 'kay? But tonight I'm working on something big, and I can't have you distracting me or getting in trouble because of me."

He frowned petulantly. "Aw, c'mon man! I can help out, for real! Just give me a chance!"

I had given him a few chances before. He was good for odd jobs and sending messages, but give him too much responsibility and chaos followed. It wasn't his fault- he was just a natural walking disaster area.

"Sorry, kid. Sit this one out." I shoved him lightly onto the street. "I'll see you some other time, alright?"

"Fine." He shrugged defensively. "I'll see you later."

I sighed as he left, moving back into the alley. I was glad I'd been able to get rid of him; Alex was stubborn as anything and it could be hard to dissuade him once he got an idea into his head. The last thing I needed now was someone tagging along behind me, no matter how keen he was.

I grimaced as pain shot through my side suddenly. I had almost forgotten about where the guy from earlier had been kicking me, I had been so caught up in the excitement of the case. Now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off, the pain was starting to get to me.

I limped out onto the street. It was pissing rain, and I could barely see a foot in front of my face. I stumbled across the road, trying to get to the next block, when I was suddenly blinded by headlights. The roar of an engine bore down on me, and I threw myself to the side, trying to get out of the way of the oncoming car. It clipped my side as it sped past and I fell to the sidewalk, agony spreading through my body. I lay there, panting, as my vision started to go black at the edges. That was no accident. Someone had meant to run me down. Someone had tried to kill me.

And they had almost succeeded.

A car pulled up beside me, slowing to a stop with one wheel in the puddle by my arm. Someone got out, muttering nervously as they hefted me by the arms and half-lifted, half-dragged me in the open door. It was too dark for me to see their face. I was too dazed to do much of anything but lie there as they spread me out on the backseat, stripping off my coat and balling it up under my head like a pillow. A warm hand brushed my soaked hair off my forehead, patting my shoulder awkwardly.

I kicked out almost reflexively, catching the person in the shin. They cursed and tried to pull me back as I struggled towards the door, attempting to get out. They pushed me back against the seat, slamming the door closed and locking it.

"Please. I know how much this means to you, but you're going to hurt yourself. Just calm down."

I recognized that voice. But from where? Another jolt of pain went through me, and before I could piece together what was going on I sank into unconsciousness.


	5. In Which I Get Laid

When I came to, I was being dragged up a flight of stairs. My knee kept bumping against the railing and the man beside me was panting. I felt bad for him- I'm tall, and as a result heavy, and he had one of my arms thrown around his neck and was attempting to carry me by himself. Not an easy task.

"Hey." I rasped. He froze. "You don't have to do this. Gimme a sec and I'll be able to do it myself."

He waited until I got my legs steady beneath me. I continued to lean on him heavily as we went up the stairs, but it was much faster going now that there were two of us.

We finally reached a door, and he fumbled in his pocket for a second before coming up with the key. He slid it into the lock and twisted it a few times before he got it to unlock, and we fell inside awkwardly.

I sat down on the nearest thing I could find, a narrow twin bed, and leaned against the wall. My companion had his back to me as he locked the door, but when he turned around I got a good look at his face for the first time. I blinked, trying to hide my shock.

"Mr. Xavier. I'm surprised." I eyed my employer as he shucked off his soaked overcoat, dropping it over the back of a chair. "Worried I wasn't doing my job?"

"No, quite the opposite." He loosened his tie and crossed the room, opening a closet door and pulling out two clean shirts. He tossed me one. "Here, take off your shirt. It won't do to have you dripping everywhere. I'm going to get the first aid kit."

I crossed my arms over my chest, ignoring the way my ribs cried out in protest. "I don't need help."

He shot me an incredulous look. "Sure you don't. You were just lying in the middle of the road because you like taking naps on asphalt."

I swatted his hands away as he started undoing my shirt. "Hey!"

He frowned at me, his brow furrowed heavily over his deep blue eyes. "Look, Mr. Lensherr, I'm paying you to do something for me. The least I can do is provide a little service when you need it."

I unfolded my arms and rolled my eyes. "Fine. We'll do it your way." He smiled and reached for my buttons, fingers grazing my skin through the semi-transparent fabric of my shirt. I felt my flesh tingle under his touch. My shirt dropped to the floor with a soft thump, heavy with water.

Xavier pushed a strand of hair behind his ear, running his hands over my chest and sides. "Does it hurt there?" He asked, watching me wince as he pressed lightly on one of my ribs. I nodded, and he moved down lower, where a bruise was starting to purple against my pale skin. "Here?"

"Yes." I gulped as his fingers skidded over my waistband. "Um." It took a lot to leave me speechless, and I shook my head, trying to clear it. "Have you heard anything more about your sister?"

"Unfortunately, that's why I was coming to see you." He glanced up from a cut on my stomach. "I was on my way to your office when I saw you passed out on 7th. I haven't heard from my sister in a few days, which isn't odd. But when I tried to call her, she didn't respond. And when I went over to her apartment, she wasn't there. I tried calling my parents, and they said she was staying with Shaw."

"That sounds ominous."

"Mmmm." He nodded, grabbing a bottle of rubbing alcohol and tipping it onto a cotton ball. "I called Shaw to try to talk to her but he said that she didn't want to speak to me. That's not like her at all. Even when she's angry at me, she'll always talk to me, even if it's only to yell." He laughed bitterly. "He's trying to make me think that it's all swell, that everything's cool, but I'm onto him."

"So, what's happening?" I winced as he dabbed at my cuts with the alcohol, stinging as it dripped down my skin. "What's the story?"

"I think Raven found something out. I think she stumbled onto something Shaw was doing, something illegal, and now he's keeping her prisoner until the Stryker ball tomorrow night so that she can't tell anyone what she's seen."

I nodded. "He's planning to propose to her then. If he's threatening her into saying yes, which he is, then we've only got until tomorrow night to get her out of there and expose Shaw for what he really is. He's got to marry your sister to get his hands on your fortune, and he'll do anything to make that happen." I growled. "The son of a bitch."

Xavier frowned, wrapping gauze around my side. "Why do you hate Shaw so much? I saw it the minute I mentioned his name back at your office; your eyes lit up like a neon sign. This is more than just a job for you, isn't it?"

I smiled sharply. "You're a mind reader, Mr. Xavier."

"Call me Charles." His palm pressed against my chest, his breath hot against my skin. "Please."

I grabbed his face and lunged forward, pressing out lips together. His hands slid over my shoulders, grasping my back tightly and pulling us chest-to-chest. His lips were glossy and parted under mine and I thrust my tongue in, winding my fingers into his soft brown hair. He moaned and dug his nails into the bruises on my ribs, making me gasp and tug him in closer so that he was straddling my lap, grinding down insistently.

"Fuck." He broke away, eyes blown wide with lust, and leaned forward to lick at the corner of my mouth. His hands skated over the back of my neck as he rutted against me, mindlessly stringing curses together under his breath as I undid the zippers of our trousers, hands deft despite the insistent ache of my body and the out-of-control lust spiraling through my head. I threw his slacks to the floor and ran my fingertips up and down the insides of his thighs, making him sigh and nuzzle against my neck. He jerked forwards as I cupped his balls, letting out a cry of shock and arousal. I bit his shoulder.

"I need something slick." I muttered against his collarbone, moving my hand up to leisurely slide a finger into his tight hole. He shuddered and pitched forward as I scissored, pulling open the drawer of the bedside table while I opened him up.

"Vaseline. Behind the Hemingway." I pushed the book out of the way and grabbed the small plastic tub. Charles took it from me, unscrewing the lid with shaking hands and scooping up a fingerful of the stuff. "Let me."

He reached down and coated my cock in the slippery substance as I groaned and writhed beneath him. He pressed a sloppy kiss to my forehead before plunging down, impaling himself on me with a shared cry. He was so hot and tight, and with his head thrown back and his eyes wide open he looked exquisite. It took him a moment, blinking and gasping for air, before he could adjust. When he started to move on top of me, slow and moaning, I thought I would explode.

His hands cupped my face, holding us mouth-to-mouth as he surged up and down, whimpering and sighing. It was too much. I grabbed his hips, digging in my nails and flipping him over on the bed. He gasped as his head hit the pillows and I pounded into him, thrusting hard and fast into his body. I could feel myself slipping into German as I muttered into his ear, fucking him so hard that the headboard of the bed began to slam into the wall. His free hand, the one that wasn't curled in my hair, was clenching and unclenching in the sheets as he keened, arching up to meet me.

"Oh," He was saying, his voice quaking and startled. "Oh."

He gave a choked cry as he came, spurting hot and messy all over our stomachs. His hands were shaking as they scrabbled against my back and he kept rolling his hips even as I shuddered and filled him, holding tight through our twin aftershocks. I pulled out after a moment and he pulled me in, moaning obscenely as he messily tongued his way into my mouth. Breaking away, I grabbed a crumpled cigarette packet from the disorganized chaos of the drawer where I had found the Vaseline and the Hemingway side-by-side and lit two, handing one to Charles. He took it gratefully, inhaling curling tendrils of smoke from the rolled white paper and then blowing them out gracefully. He looked like a painting, his hair flopping over his forehead and his big blue eyes staring out the window of the apartment, grey smoke trailing from his swollen lips like a dragon and sweat-soaked sheets pooled loosely around his waist. He looked more beautiful and more erotic than any dame I'd ever seen, and I'd been hanging around hookers all night.

I wrapped an arm around Charles' shoulders, letting his head fall against my shoulder as we smoked quietly. I hadn't been lying when I told Angel that the only woman I got involved with was Magda.

"Hey." He stroked his hand up and down my sides, being careful to avoid the bruises and the gauze that he had taped over them that had remarkably stayed put during our activities. "You're gonna help my sister, right?"

"'Course I am. Stupid question." I grumbled. He raised an eyebrow at me.

"You're going to kill Shaw, aren't you?" He asked. I looked him dead in the eye.

"Probably."

He nodded, stubbing out his cigarette on the silver ashtray beside us. "I just wanted to make sure."

I sat there, looking around the room before I gathered myself enough to answer his unspoken question. "I was a cop. My partner and I, we found out he was bringing heroin into the street, tried to stop him. He got wind and framed me for taking bribes. Made me a goddamn patsy." I laughed bitterly. "I got thrown off the force. It didn't stop me. I kept following him, kept trying to find something on him, the right evidence to take him down…" I shook my head. "I should have given up, but I couldn't. Shaw knew I wouldn't stop. So he went to the only person I still cared about." I felt anger, sadness, pain well up in my throat. "My mother."

"Oh, Erik." Charles pressed our foreheads together, fingers stroking comfortingly through my hair. I closed my eyes.

"He threatened her. Told her he'd kill her if I didn't stop and leave him alone, told her he'd do… horrible things to her." I gulped, unable to stop the flow of emotions that talking about the past brought up in me. "It was probably just meant to scare us, but it went too far. She had a bad heart, and it was too much for her. By the time I got back that night, they were taking her out of the apartment in a body bag." My teeth ground against each other. "I was supposed to be home when it happened, but I had gotten a tip-off about some information that could sink Shaw. Turned out it was all a grift he'd set up to make sure I was out of the house when he came by. I was too late to save her."

Charles was silent beside me, but he held me close. When I opened my eyes, he was staring at me worriedly with those big blue peepers of his. He kissed me gently and then lit me another cigarette. I had known him less than I day and already I could tell I was getting dizzy about him.

"I'm coming with you." He breathed against my cheek. I nodded.

"Okay."


	6. In Which I Am Fitted For A Suit

Charles smoked and handed me my pants. "Don't forget these."

I grinned, taking them from him. "Thanks. What would I do without you?"

"Have cold legs. Come on, we've slept too late already. We have to get you to the tailor; I made an appointment before you woke up."

I squinted in the morning light that spilled through the open bay windows. "The tailor? What for?"

Charles rolled his eyes, doing up his tie as he looked in the mirror. "Don't be a boob, Erik. I have to get you into the Stryker ball somehow, so you're my date for tonight. We have to get you some new clothes."

"What's wrong with the clothes I have now?"

He shot me a look. I glanced down at myself, taking in the bloodstained white shirt and my muddy slacks.

"Fine, point taken. But I'll need something I can hide my beanshooter under." I patted my shoulder holster lovingly, Magda snug and familiar against my suspenders. Charles nodded.

"I'm sure we can find something. I know a very good tailor." He smiled as I wrapped my arms around him from behind, resting my chin on the shoulder of his tweed suit jacket and watching us in the mirror. "Do you even know how to tie a bow tie?"

I shook my head. "Not a clue."

He turned around in my embrace, fitting in snuggly against my chest. He was much shorter than me, and he slotted in like a puzzle piece. He draped his arms around my neck, standing up on the tips of his toes and pressing his lips to mine. "Well, I'll just have to do it for you, then, won't I?"

"I'm interpreting that as a promise."

"Good; you're interpreting it correctly." He slid out from my arms and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair he had thrown it over last night. Frowning, he stood with his arms akimbo in the doorway. "Hurry, up, though, seriously."

"I'm hurrying." I finished tying my shoelaces and stood up, taking my coat as he handed it to me. I glanced around the room. "Where's my hat?"

Charles shook his head. "You didn't have a hat when I picked you up. You must have lost it in the gutter."

"Shit. That was my best hat." I scowled. "Nobody takes a shamus seriously without a hat."

"We'll get you something in town. Come on, you broad." He took my arm and dragged me out the door. "I'll make sure you look keen for tonight. Trust me."

We tumbled down the stairs, Charles rushing to keep his appointment with the tailor and hauling me after him like a dog with a bone. We burst out the door and onto the street, straight into the waiting black sedan. Charles bent forward, tapping the driver on the shoulder.

"Take us to Midtown please, Oliver. LeBeau's" The chauffeur gave him a friendly salute.

"No problem, sir. I'll make it as fast as possible."

Charles leaned back against Erik, lowering his voice politely. "Oliver's a sweet cat. Been working for my family since I was a kid. He'll get us there on time."

"Good to know."

Charles reached down and squeezed my hand. "I trust you, Erik. If anyone can save Raven, it's you. If anyone can break Shaw, it's you."

I smiled grimly. "Well, if I can't I'll be coming out in a Chicago overcoat, so I appreciate the vote of confidence."

We pulled up outside of a small, old-fashioned tailor's shop with 'LeBeau's' emblazoned above the door in big red letters. Charles hauled me out of the car, thanking Oliver and telling him to wait for us.

Inside the shop was small and cluttered. There were heavy rolls of cloth lying on every surface and swatches of fabric all over the floor like leaves in a forest. Sewing cushions dotted tables like mushrooms and Charles warned me to wash my step. I nearly trod on a sewing needle before I heard his advice.

"Remy? Are you here?" Charles called out.

"I'm back here_, cher_!" A voice replied from behind a huge sheet of velvet. A man poked his head out over the top and grinned at Charles. "_Bebe! _What brings you to my humble shop?"

"I need a new suit for my friend, here." Charles clapped the man on the back. "Remy, this is Erik. Erik, Remy."

"_Bonjour_." Remy and I shook hands. He had long brown hair that was pulled back in a ponytail, and pins were stuck into the collar of his shirt. His accent was heavy Cajun, and he had a wide, happy grin that split his face. He pulled Charles in for a hug, and I felt jealousy bubble in my chest. He seemed like a nice, happy guy, but the way he was getting friendly with Charles made me want to play him a little chin music.

Remy glanced at my body, frowning thoughtfully. "You need a suit, huh? For the Stryker ball, I'ma guess?" He shared a knowing look with Charles. "It's all I've been doing for weeks. 'Remy, take in my waist. Remy, make my sleeves shorter. Remy, I need a tie to match my socks.' It's crazy, man."

Charles nodded understandingly. "I'd believe it. Luckily, my friend, the suit you picked out for me last year still fits like a charm. Erik's unfortunately deprived of a good suit, though, and he can't exactly wear his flogger to Stryker's."

"No problem. C'mere, Erik; _Un ami_ of Charles is _mon ami, aussi_." He pulled out a measuring tape and knelt by my leg. "Damn, but you're tall. Let's get to work, this could take a while."


	7. In Which We Visit Moira

I left LeBeau's an hour later, feeling like someone had slipped me a Mickey Finn. I'd barely escaped death by the pins and needles Remy used to hold my suit together, and my head was spinning from his constant patter. Charles had chatted with him amiably the whole time, like old friends, but I hadn't been able to keep up with the conversation. I felt left out.

Luckily, Charles was all over me the minute we got in the car. He pressed a kiss to my temple, heedless of Oliver, who was humming quietly to himself in the front seat. "You're going to look snazzy as Hell, Erik. That suit's perfect for you." He leaned up to talk to Oliver but paused halfway there. "Where are we going now?"

"I want to stop by the police station." I said. "I'm going to talk to my old partner, see if she's going to be there tonight. It'd be good to have her there as back up in case anything goes wrong."

Charles cocked an eyebrow. "Who's your ex-partner? She's a dame? I only know one woman detective in this city."

"You know her. It's Moira MacTaggart."

His eyes widened. "Moira? Hell, I've known her for years. How have we not met before now?"

I shrugged. "I never really socialize. And anyway, we haven't been partners for a while now." I remembered the bitterness I had felt towards Moira after I had been kicked off the force: Why had it been me and not her? Why was I the one that Shaw decided needed my life ruined? I had said some horrible things to Moira in those days, things I'd regret for as long as I lived. She deserved better than me- I had been a shitty partner, accusing her of betraying me when I should have stood by her. It made me feel better to know that she had friends like Charles when I had been a heel, people who had given her the support she needed. I glanced at Charles next to me in the backseat of the car, staring out the window contemplatively. He deserved better than a down at heel private eye with a death wish.

He turned his head to look at me, as if he had sensed that I was thinking about him. It was eerie how he did that- it was like he could hear your thoughts. "Moira always told me she had a great partner back when she first got promoted to detective. I wasn't able to put the reputation to a face until now."

"She's too nice." We spent the rest of the ride in silence.

We got to the station just as lunchtime hit. Beat cops and detectives alike sat around eating sandwiches or going out to local restaurants. The atmosphere was startlingly familiar- I hadn't been to the station in a very long time (eons, ages, dynasties) but it was exactly how I remembered it. I was hit by a wave of longing, of missing what I could have had.

I shook it off. No use crying over the past: I was always moving forward. They didn't call me the Human Shark for nothing.

Charles walked beside me, able to match my stride despite being significantly shorter. He carried himself like he knew exactly what he was doing all the time, full of poise and power. It was impressive how easily confidence came to him; he hadn't been made soft by a lifetime of privilege like some people. I felt stronger with him by my side.

I stopped outside Moira's office. Charles went to knock on the door, but I opened it before he could even rap his fist against the frosted glass window. He glared at me reproachfully as we stepped into the room.

"Hello, Detective MacTaggart." I grinned at my former partner. If looks could kill, Moira would have been up on a murder charge. I glanced at the other people in the room with her- Armando had his feet up on the desk and was smoking a cigarette leisurely, seemingly undisturbed by our intrusion, but the tall, lanky kid in Coke bottle glasses and a beat cop uniform standing beside Moira was staring at me like I had three heads, a meatball sub halfway to his mouth. "Armando. Nice to see you again."

"You too, man." He nodded unflappably.

"Hi, Moira." Charles waved from behind me. She opened and shut her mouth, speechless.

"Charles, what are you doing here?" She groaned. "Tell me Erik didn't talk you into this."

"Erik didn't talk me into this." He said obediently, smiling. "Who's this?"

Moira rolled her eyes. "Officer McCoy. Hank, say hello to the nice rich idiot with no day job."

The bespectacled young officer waved his hand hesitantly. "Hello?"

"Hi." I tilted my head. "Is that sandwich from Silvio's?"

"Ye-es." He nodded slowly, unsure of whether I was to be trusted or not. The poor kid had obviously been hazed one time too many by his senior officers.

"They make the best subs. Good choice." I shot him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. From his disturbed expression I could tell that wasn't the way it turned out.

"Are you two here for a reason, or are you just trying to make my life miserable?" Moira settled behind her desk, glaring at Charles and me.

"We were wondering if you were going to be at the Stryker ball tonight. Any chance we'll see you there?"

"Yeah, I'll be there." She raised her eyebrows at me. "You're going? That doesn't seem like your kind of clam-bake, Erik."

"I'm accompanying Mr. Xavier." I said coolly. "We're hoping to run into his sister, Raven. She hasn't been seen for a few days, you know. And maybe we'll get to rub elbows with Sebastian Shaw. Who knows?"

Moira's eyes widened. "Oh. Shit. Am I gonna need backup?"

I nodded. "You might want to bring backup, yeah."

She sighed. "Great. Jesus, it's just your mission in life to make my work harder, isn't it?"

"Sorry. Sure seems that way, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Constantly." She squinted at Charles. "You know this won't end well, right? You're a smart guy. Tell me you know what you're getting into."

"I know what I'm getting into." Charles shifted imperceptibly closer to me, his hand brushing mine. I felt a smile quirk at the corners of my lips.

"Don't blow your wig and plug anyone, Erik. I mean it. I don't want this party to turn into a bloodbath- I'm going to be wearing a very nice dress."

"I don't doubt it." Moira always looked stylish. She was the most composed dame I knew. "Look, you know I feel bad about asking you, but I need your help. I wouldn't be here if I didn't think it was important."

She nodded. "I understand. We'll be there. Right, guys?" She looked over at her friends.

Armando nodded.

"Sure. I'm not doing anything important tonight."

Hank's mouth opened and closed soundlessly a few times before he threw his hands up in the air. "Sure. It can't be any weirder than whatever pranks Officer Howlett has planned for me."

"Are you still working on that missing persons case?" I asked. "Don't you need to have someone working on that?"

"Mmm. About that." Moira ran a hand through her hair sheepishly. "We've been following the clue that got left behind, and we don't think the guy we have in custody has anything to do with Kitty Pryde's disappearance. Actually, some evidence has surfaced, and…" she trailed off.

Armando blew smoke into the air. "Why do you think we're going to be at the Stryker ball tonight?"

Charles leaned over the desk, excited. "You think Shaw has something to do with this missing girl?"

Moira nodded. "It turns out she was last seen getting into a car that belonged to Shaw, and once we poked around a little we found out that she had made a deal with him to get her boyfriend out of jail. Her boyfriend, incidentally," She pulled a mugshot out of a folder and showed me a picture of an emaciated blonde guy with spiky hair, "is one Bobby Drake, aka The Iceman, one of Shaw's prime dealers. The guy's a dope fiend of the worst kind; he's also the suspect we've got in custody. Five minutes with Logan and he was singing like a canary."

"So you think Shaw's taken her?"

"That's what we're going to be there to find out."


	8. In Which Shit Gets Real

I felt doggy in the suit Remy had fixed up for me, especially when I stood next to Charles in his digs. He was the sort of guy who had been bred to wear fancy clothes, and he looked as at home in a tuxedo and cummerbund as he did in his tweed jackets and slacks. I, on the other hand, felt extremely uncomfortable in anything other than my trench coat, and Magda felt squished underneath the suit jacket Remy had tailored for me. I craned my neck stiffly as Charles fixed the black bow tie around my throat.

"I feel like a twit in this." I complained. Charles looked up at me lovingly.

"You look fine. Anyway, unless they make us dance all you have to do is stand there and look pretty until Shaw comes along." He finished up with my tie and brushed the back of his hand against my smooth, freshly-shaven cheek. "You should do this more often. I think I have stubble burn from last night." He joked.

I grabbed him by the hips and pulled him in so that we were nose-to-nose. We kissed deeply, tongues fighting for dominance as we backed up until I had Charles with his back against a wall. I wrapped my fingers around his slim wrists and pinned them above his head, leaning down to bite and lick at his jaw. He moaned wantonly, bucking his hips up to rut against mine. I pressed a final kiss to the spot I'd been working on before I let go of his hands, moving back to study my handiwork.

"There. Now no one will notice the stubble burn."

Charles blinked dazedly. "Why?"

I grinned. "Because they'll all be looking at the giant hickey I just left on your neck."

He rushed to the mirror, blushing bright red. "Erik!" Even in his carefully ironed and starched suit, he looked thoroughly debauched- his hair disheveled and eyes glazed, and the red and purple mark I left on his throat too high up for his collar to cover. He turned to glare at me. "I'm going to have to wear a scarf now."

"It's not my fault you're a sucker." I kissed his cheek lightly and arranged his woolen greatcoat so that the bite was mostly hidden. "There, now it's covered. If anyone asks you about it, you can just flick your eyes over to me, cough nervously, and then change the subject. Sound sweet?"

"Peachy keen." He muttered sarcastically as he glanced out the window. "Come on, Oliver's outside. We're going to be late."

We climbed into the black sedan, settling into the back seat beside each other. Charles leaned forward to tap Oliver on the shoulder. "Can you take us to the ball, please?"

Charles let out a sudden cry as a hand flew up and wrapped around his wrist, the fingers gripping him so tightly that his skin began to turn white. The figure in the front seat turned around slowly, and I found myself staring down the muzzle of a Colt .38.

The driver wasn't Oliver.

Instead, we were facing a tall, sinister man with a perfectly manicured black goatee and a huge, angry scar running through one eye. He looked like most people's mental image of the phrase "evil pirate," except he was wearing a three-piece suit and a chauffeur's hat and he didn't have a parrot.

Keeping his gun trained on me and his fist around Charles' wrist, he beckoned out the window to someone. The driver's door opened and he slid over to the passenger's seat as a man in a lavender suit with caramel colored skin took his place at the wheel. He produced two black bags and tossed them at our feet.

"Put these on over your heads." The first man said with a thick Russian accent. "If you try to take them off, I will plug you. If you speak, I will plug you. If you try to escape or pull any funny business, I'll plug your flame." He gestured sharply to Charles with the barrel of the heater. "Think carefully about what you do next."

I put on the sack. Charles did the same.

"Good choice." The Russian growled. "I've let go of your friend's wrist, but I've still got my gun pointed at you both. Don't even think about moving." I could see him faintly through the dark fabric of the hood as he turned to his companion. "Drive, Janos."

I wanted to tell the Russian that I recognized him from earlier- maybe thank him for the bruises currently aching under my suit. But I bit my tongue as the engine rumbled and we began to move over the cobbled streets, speeding out into the night towards our suddenly uncertain fate.


	9. In Which A Rock Meets A Hard Place

The car slowed to a stop in silence outside a large building. I could half-see it, a shape formed from lit windows and hazy corners. Charles' door was pulled open and the driver- Janos, the Russian had called him- yanked him out by his arm. The Russian reached in and grabbed me, hauling me to my feet on the sidewalk. I felt the cool steel of his gun press against the small of my back.

"Janos has one of these held against your pretty little friend's spine." The Russian snarled into my ear, shoving me forward with the barrel of his .38. "So don't try anything heroic."

I heard Charles laugh nervously. "Look, I think you've made a mistake-" There was a crack, and I saw him stagger and fall to his knees with a pained cry. I lunged towards him but the Russian held me back, releasing the safety on his rod with a loud click.

"No talking, or he'll hit you again." He jerked his head, and Janos yanked Charles to his feet. "There are no mistakes here. Move."

We shuffled forward, heading towards the building in front of us. I stumbled over the front steps as the Russian jerked me inside. Huddled inside the building's cramped foyer, Janos and the Russian pulled our hoods off and turned on the lights. I blinked in the sudden brightness and looked over at Charles, giving him the once-over to make sure he was all right. He looked dazed, and there was blood trickling down from his hairline and over his forehead, but he flashed me a shaky smile as the Russian shoved us onto the staircase.

"Up." He barked. "Keep your hands where I can see them." A quick glance back confirmed that they still had their guns pointing at us. Charles nudged my shoulder to get my attention, and I glanced down to meet his gaze.

"This is Shaw's house." He mouthed. I raised my eyebrows.

"You're sure?" I whispered. The two hatchetmen were a few steps behind, and there was a truck going by outside, so I was pretty sure our words would go unheard. He nodded.

"I snooped around once when I was here for dinner with Raven and my parents. This is the back entrance."

I squinted up the stairs at our destination, feeling my body tense in anticipation. The Russian and his friend had forgotten to check me for weapons, and I could only hope that they wouldn't remember and find Magda. I would need her, if we were going to meet with Shaw.

We were shoved from the darkened stairwell through the door at the top of the landing. The Russian moved out in front, training his Colt on my forehead as Janos flanked us from behind. The room we had entered was brightly lit and spacious, with modern light fixtures on the walls and modestly framed paintings dotted sparsely in between. The furniture as well as the paint scheme was all white, with only varying shades of cream and ivory helping me to tell where a coffee table ended and a sofa began. The one piece of colored furniture in the room was plush black armchair, and it held the only person other than us- a dame.

She lounged in the chair, her face a mask of misery. Her honey-golden hair was cut into a neat bob and the sapphire blue dress draped around her slim frame was elegant and expensive-looking. On a good day I would have said she was beautiful, but her skin was sallow and her eyes were ringed in red- obvious evidence of crying. She turned in her seat as the door opened, moving like a startled animal at the creaking hinges. She stared at the Russian and I in resigned confusion, but when she caught sight of our third party member her eyes widened and her hands flew to her mouth.

"Charles!" She cried, launching herself out of the armchair and rushing forward to envelope him in a hug. "Oh my God, what have they done to you?"

"Raven!" He gasped. So this was the elusive sister, then: this was what we were here for. He buried his face in her shoulder, wincing as her fingers probed tentatively at the wound on his head.

"I'm so sorry, Charles, I should have listened to you, you were right, I'm so sorry!" She babbled.

"It's okay. Everything is going to be fine, Raven." He murmured. "Don't worry, we're going to get you out of here."

Someone clapped slowly. I jerked away from Charles and his sister to see the source of the noise. _Stupid. _I had let myself get distracted. Bad mistake.

I narrowed my eyes at the man in the doorway, willing the machine gun rat-a-tat-tat of my heart to slow down. He grinned at me, spreading his hands wide.

"Detective Lensherr. It's been a long time." He tilted his head to the side, perfect white teeth glinting. "Or, sorry, that's Mister Lensherr now, isn't it? My mistake."

"Shaw." I growled. He walked towards us slowly, smiling all the while in his spotless white suit.

"And Mr. Xavier. So nice of you to join us." He grabbed Raven's bicep in a vice-like grip, making her yelp as he tugged her out of her brother's arms. Charles struggled to hold onto her, but Janos brought the butt of his gun down on the back of his head, sending him crumpling to the floor. Shaw threw Raven back into the black chair, a murderous scowl flitting across his boyish features for a split second. "Sit down, you bitch."

Raven rubbed at her arm, glaring at Shaw hatefully as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. I saw my chance to take advantage of their distraction and reached into my jacket, pulling Magda out and leveling her with Shaw's head in one fluid movement. He looked up at me, startled, and I felt euphoria roil in my gut as I tightened my finger on the trigger and realized that I would be the last person he ever saw.

Someone slammed into me, their weight sending me flying back into the wall. Magda discharged with an ear-shattering bang, bullets spraying into the ceiling. The Russian grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the floor until my hold on Magda loosened and she fell from my grasp. I could hear Shaw screaming in the background.

"Azazel! You didn't frisk him? What the Hell am I paying you for!" Breathing heavily through his nose, he smoothed his hair back and knelt beside me, picking Magda up daintily and dangling her from his fingers.

"Nice try, Mr. Lensherr." He clicked the safety back on and tossed her onto the couch dismissively. "But no dice, I'm afraid." He glowered up at the Russian. "That could have been ugly, Azazel. One more slip up like that and there will be consequences."

"Yes boss. Sorry boss." Azazel crawled off me, dusting his suit self-consciously as he went. I moved to sit up but Shaw's foot slammed down on my chest, knocking my head back against the ground and hitting a particularly bad bruise from the previous night. A wave of nausea rolled over me and I groaned and curled in on myself protectively, feeling like I was going to be sick.

"Try something like that again and I _will_ put a bullet in you." He snarled. "Stay down."

Janos dragged Charles to his feet and dropped him next to me unceremoniously. Shaw gestured vaguely towards a closet and sat down next to Raven, stroking her hair as she flinched. "Azazel, get the rope. I want these two bound and gagged."

We lay stunned on the floor as the two henchmen tied our hands and feet, making sure that our arms were securely behind our backs and that we faced each other so that we couldn't untie each other's bonds. I cursed myself for being so sloppy and dropping my guard- I had been a sucker, letting my anger get the best of me, and now Charles and his sister were paying the price.

Shaw yanked Raven up, shoving her towards the door. "Get your coat. We're going to be late for the party."

"Raven, don't worry, everything is going to be all right." Charles croaked. She nodded, steeling her expression even as tears streaked down her face. Shaw snorted, throwing on his white fur overcoat and winding a possessive arm around Raven's waist.

"I'm afraid I'm gonna have to put the kibosh on that, Charlie." He shot us a shit-eating grin. "See, everything is going to be all right- for me. Your little sis and I are going to announce our engagement at the Stryker ball in about-" he checked his watch, "-an hour. And after that, we're going to quietly disappear to a little chapel on Houston Street. Your parents will hear in the morning about our unexpected union, of course, and about the fact that there's a new heir to the Xavier fortune- and with especially good timing, too, as the eldest Xavier child will be found sometime this week at the bottom of the Hudson river." He winked at Charles. "Isn't it funny how things just work out like that sometimes?"

"Touch my sister and I swear to God I'll kill you, you son of a bitch." There was a quiet fury in Charles' voice that I hadn't heard before. His blue eyes flashed fire, and even bound and bleeding on the floor I thought for a moment that he might jump up and tear out Shaw's throat with his teeth.

"Keep your gunsel in check, Lensherr. If he doesn't watch his mouth someone might get hurt." Shaw glared at me. "As for you… well, no one's going to miss a two-bit amateur gumshoe. And poor Charlie here shouldn't die alone." He smirked at Janos and Azazel. "Anyway, I have more important things to worry about than you two finks right now. I'll take care of you when I get back. Sit tight." Throwing a wink our way, he tightened his possessive grip on Raven and left, slamming the door as he went.

I felt my chest tighten as the sound of Shaw's car roaring down the street drifted in through the open window. The two goons were watching us like hawks, and I could tell from the way Azazel kept stroking his gun he was itching for an excuse to finish us off. Magda was lying uselessly on the sofa, far out of my reach. Charles and I were trussed up like two Thanksgiving turkeys and the fabric Janos had stuffed in our mouths kept us from calling out for help.

We were stuck between a rock and a hard place, with no way of getting out.


	10. In Which The Cavalry Arrives

I stared at the clock on Shaw's wall as it ticked, the hands moving excruciatingly slowly around the white face. The minutes seemed to inch by like mentally challenged caterpillars, every second driving me more and more wild. Sweat trickled down into my collar and, not for the first time, I cursed my decision to wear a bow tie.

Across from me, Charles was wriggling against the rope Janos had bound him with. It was futile, but the blood on his forehead had dried and Shaw's taunting seemed to have given him a sudden rush of adrenaline. I stretched out my foot to brush against his leg and he glanced up at me as if he had forgotten I was there. I wished that the rag in my mouth was gone and tried to apologize to him with my eyes. His gaze softened and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to mine.

"How sweet." Janos drawled. "You two are just as cute as a bugs' ear. Is that an apt description, Azazel?"

Azazel nodded sullenly. Janos knelt beside us, pulling a switchblade from inside his jacket and flicking the knife out smoothly. The cold metal glimmered in the overly bright lights of Shaw's apartment. He ran the flat blade over Charles' face, paying special attention to the long, pale column of his throat. A thin red line of blood appeared under his jaw as he turned the knife slowly, pushing the sharp edge against Charles' skin.

"Shaw didn't have time to take care of you." He whispered threateningly. "But I do."

Charles locked his eyes onto mine. I nodded imperceptibly and tensed my bound legs, getting ready to channel my energy and kick out at Janos.

There was a bang, and a sudden burst of frantic muttering. Janos's head shot up and he gestured towards the front door, a few rooms away. "Azazel, go check what that is. Take care of it."

The Russian slipped out of the room soundlessly, his shoes padding along the bleached wooden floorboards. There was a shout, a crack, and a triumphant cry.

"Bam! Out like a light!" A young female voice crowed. I felt my eyes widen in recognition as Janos got to his feet and began creeping towards the noise.

"I know, right? Did you see that? Wow, talk about your glass jaws…"

I tried to yell a warning around the gag, but the only sound that came out was muffled and unintelligible. Janos moved like a cat, knife clutched in one hand and gun in the other. He started to slink around the corner, preparing to attack-

And ran straight into a gangly blonde youth. Their heads bumped together with a loud thump, and the lavender-suited goon's weapons dropped to the floor as he reached up to grab his injury. The blonde stumbled backwards, blinking.

"Ow!" He shouted angrily. "That hurt!"

A dark blur darted out from behind him, launching a kick straight into Janos' groin. He screeched and doubled over, giving the blur the perfect angle to hit him over the head with a silver candlestick. He moaned once and tumbled to a heap on the floor, unconscious.

The blonde ran up to us, picking up Janos' forgotten knife on the way. "Mister Lensherr! Are you okay?"

He pulled the gag out of my gaping mouth. "Alex? What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, ya big lug!" Angel grabbed the switchblade out of Alex's hands and got to work sawing at the ropes. "Cripes, I don't know how you keep getting yourself into these situations, Erik."

Charles looked from Alex to Angel to me and then back again. "Hmmm maaa hrmmm?" He mumbled into the fabric around his mouth, confused. Alex untied the rag from where it was knotted at the back of his head and he licked his lips, making a face as if he was trying to clean a bad taste from his mouth (Which he probably was. The rags weren't exactly clean). "Pardon me if I'm being rude, but who are you people?"

"Angel is a friend of mine. Alex is an associate." I resisted the urge to add _And my stalker._ The ropes snapped and fell to the ground, and Angel handed me the knife. I got to work on Charles' ties. "How did you guys find us?"

Alex grinned smugly. "Remember last night, when you told me to stop tailing you?"

"Ye-es." I didn't like the direction this conversation was going in.

"Yeah, well, I kind of ignored you." He held up his hands defensively. "I wasn't spying on you or anything, I just wanted to help! Anyway, I was going to get help after that car hit you, but when I came back you were being loaded into this black sedan, and I tried chasing after it but it was going too fast. So I memorized the license plate number and then went to Angel to see if she recognized it."

"I don't know why he thought I would; it's not like I'm the Department of Motor Vehicles." She rolled her eyes. "Fortunately I had seen my friend Remy earlier, and he had told me you two were in his shop this morning." She smirked. "Nice suit, by the way. You're lucky Remy can't keep his Cajun mouth shut."

"You know Remy?" Charles asked, massaging his wrists where he had rubbed them raw against the ropes.

Angel raised her eyebrows. "Oh yeah. Remy and I know each other in the Biblical sense."

Charles flushed. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Don't worry about it, she's a whore." Alex helped himself to the decanter of scotch Shaw had placed on his coffee table. He glanced at the shocked expression on Charles' face and grinned, handing him a glass. "I don't mean that as an insult, it's really her job."

"Girl's gotta make dough somehow." Angel shrugged. Charles buried his head in his hands.

"I'm still trying to figure out how you got here." I said as I poked Azazel's unconscious body with foot. "It's not like Remy knew where we'd be."

"It wasn't that hard, really." Alex helped Charles up. "We went to your apartment, Charles, to try to find Mister Lensherr-"

"Seriously, don't call me that."

"-We went to your apartment to try to find Erik, but before we could talk to you those two mooks shuffled you into the car and drove off."

"How did you follow us if we were in a car and you were on foot?" Charles asked suspiciously.

Alex coughed. "I may or may not have used some tricks I picked up in prison to 'borrow' a car."

I groaned. "Alex..."

"You had just been kidnapped! What was I supposed to do, make whoopee with a fire hydrant and hope everything turned out swell?"

"Can I just remind you that we saved your guys' lives recently? Just saying." Angel interjected, folding her arms over her chest petulantly. I sighed.

"Right. Sorry. Thank you very much for saving our lives, we really appreciate it, even if you had to steal a car to do it." I felt something click in my head suddenly, and a grin spread across my face. Scooping Magda up from the couch, I spun around and pointed a finger at Alex. "Do you still have the car?"

"Yeah, it's outside." He jerked his thumb back towards the door. "Look, I'm going to give it back right away-"

"You might want to hold off on that." I holstered my gun and headed for the stairs. "I'm going to crash that party."

Charles grabbed me by the shoulder. "I'm coming with you."

I shook my head. "No way. You've just been hit in the head twice and gotten tied up: Angel is going to take you to the hospital. Besides, this is going to get ugly."

His hold on my arm tightened and he scowled up at me. "My sister is in danger, Erik. I can't just sit here while Shaw forces her into…. Into unholy matrimony!"

I sighed. "All right, if I'm bringing one of you along I might as well bring all of you. But for God's sake, hurry up. We're running out of time."


	11. In Which Something Missing Is Found

"I've got Magda here," I said, gesturing to my gun, "But none of you guys have weapons. We're gonna have to remedy that."

"I've got this." Angel held up Azazel's switchblade. "But I've got my own, too." She pulled a cheaper looking (but just as deadly) version of the knife out of her pocket.

I nodded. "Okay, Angel, give the extra to Charles."

She tossed it to him. He caught it after a moment of half-panicked fumbling, closing it carefully and tucking it into the waistband of his trousers.

Alex spread his hands. "Hey! What about me?"

I glanced around the room but couldn't see anything useful. "Go look in the other rooms. I'm sure he's got knives hidden away somewhere. Try the kitchen, that's probably the best bet."

"'Kay." Alex headed off. I never thought I would be in a position where I would actually encourage him to play with sharp objects instead of confiscating them and locking them in my desk drawer beside the single malt I kept hidden away for special occasions.

As I undid my bow tie and tucked it down under the cushions of Shaw's sofa, Charles sat down, fiddling with his own. "Why do you call your gun Magda?"

"Because she's cold metal through and through, her trigger can go off at any second, and she spits hot lead and pain into men's hearts." I said, bending down to kiss him lightly. "Just like my ex-wife."

There was a cough from the direction of the doorway. Alex stood there, a nervous, shocked expression on his face.

"Uh, you guys? I think you might wanna see this."

He led us down the hall and into a darkened room. I blinked, my eyes needing to adjust from the brightness of the rest of the apartment to the sudden low light. The room stank, a mixture of mildew and stale human sweat, and it was stuffy and hot. Beside me, Alex shifted uncomfortably.

"I thought it might be a storage closet or something, but when I looked really hard…"

I squinted into the darkness. What I saw as my vision cleared made me reel backwards in disgust. "_Mein Gott._" I whispered, horrified.

Huddled in the corner was a young woman. She was bound and gagged, naked, and her skin was filthy- as if she had been rolling around in dirt. Her long brown hair hung in her face, straggly and unwashed, and her body was shaking with sobs.

I took a tentative step into the room, holding my hands up to show that I meant her no harm. A pang shot through me as she flinched away from my approach. I got down on my knees and started to untie the gag from around her head, my fingers picking at the dirty knot of fabric.

"It's okay, we're not going to hurt you." I spoke quietly and slowly, as if talking to a spooked animal. "We're here to help you."

She gasped for air as her mouth was freed, gulping hysterically. Charles appeared in the doorway and rushed to my side.

"She's hyperventilating."

"Yeah, I know. Help me get her untied."

The dame shrieked and started to cry harder than ever when Charles pulled out the switchblade. Angel pushed past us, shoving us out of the way.

"For the luvva-! Put that thing away!" She hissed angrily. "God, just get out of the way for a minute. You're gonna give her a heart attack!"

I stood back, feeling guilty and useless as Angel rubbed the girl's back, muttering comforting nothings until her sobs started to subside. She hiccupped wetly and nodded as Angel asked her a question we couldn't hear.

"Here, you can come back now. I've calmed her down a little." Angel waved us forward.

I sat on my haunches, eye-level with the girl as Charles gently sawed at the rope around her wrists. "Hey. Are you alright, doll?"

She nodded. "Can I… can I have something to wear?"

"Yeah, of course." I shrugged out of my jacket and draped it around her so that she was covered up. "You got a name?"

"Kitty Pryde."

Charles and I shared a look. Kitty was the missing broad Moira and her boys had been looking for. It seemed like they had been right when they thought that Shaw was involved with her disappearance.

"How long have you been here?" I asked.

"A… a week, I guess? I don't really know anymore." She sniffed. "It's hard to tell time in here."

I tried not to let fury creep into my voice. "What happened? How did you get here?"

She gulped. "My boyfriend was in trouble with the cops, and I couldn't post bail. I'm just a waitress, I don't make that much money." She pulled my jacket tighter around her shoulders. "I told his boss that I would do anything if he'd keep Bobby out of the big house. I thought I was getting a great deal- he only wanted half of what the bail was. I could pay that. But when he came to collect, he said that the price had tripled. I told him I couldn't afford to give him that much dough- I've barely got a Lincoln to my name- but he wouldn't take no for an answer. His goons picked me up from the restaurant where I work and took me… wherever this is. He's been keeping me in here ever since." Tears started to well up in her eyes again. "The things he's done to me…"

I realized that I was clenching my fists. When I released my grip, I could see that my nails had left dark red crescent moons where they had pressed hard into my palm. I had known since the beginning that Shaw was a bastard- I had seen the bodies his bad dope had left on the mean streets of the city, the corpses of his rivals dredged from the bottom of the Hudson- but this was beyond anything I could have imagined. Shaw wasn't just a bastard.

He was a monster.

"Angel, I need you and Alex to stay here and call an ambulance; get Kitty here to the hospital. I would drive her myself, but-" I checked my watch and swore, "We're late as it is. Charles, we have to go."

He nodded. "All right. Let's go." He got to his feet, glancing back worriedly at Angel and Kitty. "Will you be okay here on your own?"

Angel's jaw was set in a hard line. "We'll be fine. I've dealt with worse." Her expression softened slightly. "You two go save the day."


	12. Interlude

Charles sat in the passenger's seat of the stolen car as I drove towards the Stryker building. He stared straight ahead, teeth clenched, and even in the dark I could see the determination in his eyes.

"We're going to stop Shaw." I said, mostly just to fill the silence. He glanced over at me.

"Of course we are."

"I'm going to kill him."

Charles turned back to look out the windshield. "I know."

"You can't tell me he doesn't deserve it."

"Can't I?" Charles glared. "I think he deserves to spend the rest of his life rotting in jail."

My hands tightened on the wheel. "Even though you know what he's capable of. Even after you've seen what he did to that girl, what he plans to do to your sister. You still think he doesn't deserve to die?"

"Killing Shaw will not bring you peace, Erik."

I remembered identifying my mother's body in the city morgue, her skin paper-thin and gray, her fingers curled in a rigor-mortis plea for help.

"Peace was never an option."


	13. In Which A Party is Crashed

The Stryker building was huge. Lit up from within, every window of its forty stories burned with electric brilliance. It looked like a giant red brick Jack-O-Lantern. Cars lined the sidewalks around the corner, spilling out of the filled parking garage in a flood of swanky Rolls Royces and Fords. Glancing in through the picture windows of the ground floor, I could see an ocean of mink stoles and tuxedos.

"I feel underdressed." I said. Charles glanced down at me, quirking his lips in a wry smile as he took in my disheveled appearance. He passed me his jacket.

"Here, you need to hide Magda under something." He shook his head. "I did try so hard to make you look presentable. All that work for nothing."

"Next time I promise to keep the bow tie on." I opened the car door, slipping out and joining Charles on the sidewalk. "Right now we have bigger things to worry about than my fashion sense."

We tripped up the steps of the building. We must have looked like a complete mess, because the doorman's eyes widened as he took us in. He glared down his nose and cleared his throat.

"Are you on the list?" He drawled nasally. Charles scowled, raising himself to his full height (Which, admittedly, wasn't very tall, but it was the thought that counted).

"Charles Francis Xavier." He snapped, winding his arm through mine. "And guest."

The doorman sniffed derisively. "Hmmmph. Fine, go on in." He waved us away, and we ducked inside.

I almost ran straight into a lanky, bespectacled guy in a second-hand suit, nervously sipping punch and squinting at the crowd. He fumbled with the glass, nearly spilling it all down his front as he apologized profusely. "I'm sorry, Mr. Lensherr, I didn't see you there." I stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out where I knew him from. Charles saved me, reaching past to shake his hand.

"Officer McCoy, how good to see you again." Of course, it was the geek from the station. The one with the sandwich. "We'd love to stay and chat, but I'm afraid we're in a bit of a rush. Could you take us to see Detective MacTaggart?"

He blinked owlishly. "Yeah, of course. She's right over there, follow me."

McCoy led us through the crowd of socialites and businessmen, muttering a hasty "Sorry" for every elbow that he bumped into. Charles got stopped a few times by people trying to slap him on the back or grab onto his arm, but he shrugged them off with a polite nod. I spotted Moira near a potted fern, glaring suspiciously at the refreshments table and looking uncomfortable in an evergreen-colored wrap dress.

"Where have you been?" She hissed as we got closer. "I've been trying to find you two for nearly an hour. What the Hell happened to you?"

"Shaw got wind that we were onto him and brought us to his apartment. We're lucky some of Erik's friends were following us, or we would be dead by now." Charles said. "And we found Kitty Pryde."

Moira's eyes widened. "What, the girl we've been looking for? She was at Shaw's?"

I nodded. "He was keeping her prisoner there. We called an ambulance, and two of my associates are staying with her until she gets to the hospital."

"Jesus Christ." Moira muttered, running a hand through her hair. "Alright, I'm going to find Armando. We're gonna arrest Shaw here and now; this has gone on for long enough."

"Have you seen him?" Charles asked eagerly. "He's got my sister. We have to get to them before-"

Someone tapped a microphone. We spun around to look at the stage. Shaw was standing in front of the band, his arm around Raven's waist. She looked like she was going to be sick; he was grinning broadly.

"Ladies and gentlemen." He said, his voice projected out over the cavernous room. "My name is Sebastian Shaw, for all the three people in this city who have been living under a rock and don't know who I am." The crowd tittered politely. "It is my great pleasure to announce two new joyous developments. Firstly, that Mr. Hendry and I have come to an agreement, and I am to be the newest business partner of Stryker Enterprises!"

There was a collective hushed intake of breath and a smattering of applause. Charles nudged me in the ribs and pointed over to a large, red-faced man by the stage. "I don't think Mr. Stryker's very happy about that."

"Secondly," Shaw paused dramatically, his smarmy grin spreading even wider across his face. "I am… absolutely _overjoyed_ to announce my engagement to the lovely Miss Raven Xavier!"

Raven grimaced as the room burst out clapping. Beside me, Charles body was tensed, coiled like a spring and ready to strike.

"Unfortunately, my stunning fiancée's family couldn't be here tonight, as her parents are out of town and her… _deeply_ troubled brother is sadly absent." He said in hushed, conspiratorial tones. "But I am more than happy to succeed where the young Master Xavier has failed, as the future CEO of Xavier Industries!"

"Like Hell you will!"

A shocked gasp spread through the crowd as Charles clambered onto the stage. "Get away from my sister, you son of a bitch!"

"What is the meaning of this?" Shaw spluttered, moving so that he was between Charles and Raven. I saw Armando, McCoy, and Moira moving towards the stage.

Charles turned to face the assembled room, pointing an accusatory finger at Shaw. "This man is a dope peddler, a grifter, and a kidnapper! He's a murderer and a monster!"

"Baseless accusations!" A flush was crawling up Shaw's neck, tinting his face red with anger. "It's all lies!"

"How about Kitty Pryde?" I shouted, moving to join Charles. "Tell them all about the girl you've kept tied up in a closet for the past week, Sebastian. Who's a liar now?"

Raven broke free of Shaw's grasp, rushing forward to grab the microphone. "It's all true!" She yelled desperately. "He's been keeping me trapped in his apartment since I found out what he was really like!"

Moira drew her gun at the same time as me. Someone screamed. "Sebastian Shaw, you are under arrest for the kidnapping of Kitty Pryde and the attempted murders of Charles Xavier and Erik Lensherr. Anything you say can and will be held against you."

"Mitts in the air, pal." I growled, leveling Magda with his head.

Shaw raised his hands slowly, moving towards the front of the stage. "All right, let's not do anything hasty…" He smiled. "After all, we wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

He whipped a gun from inside his jacket, grabbing Raven and pressing it to her head in one fluid movement. The crowd was roiling, people crying and shrieking and trying to get away.

"Nobody move, or I fill her full of lead!" Shaw shouted, shaking Raven roughly. "Put your guns down!"

Moira lowered her weapon to the ground. "Let her go, Shaw."

He barked out a harsh humorless laugh. "Not a chance. Clear a path through to the door, we're blowing this popsicle stand."

Charles and I ran after him as he burst out of the building, dragging Raven down the steps and into his waiting car. I fired Magda, aiming for the tires, but they peeled away down the street before I could hit them.

I heard a car horn honk and turned to look. Charles was sitting in the driver's seat of a red Cadillac.

"Come on!" he shouted. "We're losing them!"

I ducked into the car, bracing myself against the dashboard as Charles revved the engine, jerking us forward. We sped off, swerving wildly as we followed Shaw's car. I looked over at Charles, alarmed. He was hunched over the wheel, focused furiously on the road in front of him.

"Have you ever driven before?" I asked, dreading the answer.

He shook his head. "Nope."

We took a sharp corner at top speed, the car tilting up as we overbalanced. I gritted my teeth, feeling the tires lift from the street on one side before dropping back down with a jaw-rattling slam. Ahead of us, Shaw's car appeared to be getting bigger as we closed the distance between our vehicles.

I clicked Magda's safety off and started rolling down my window. "Charles, no matter what happens, keep driving. Okay?"

"Peachy keen!"

I leaned out the open window, squeezing my shoulders through the tight space. I could feel the wind whipping my hair back from my face, cold and harsh against my cheeks. Raising my arms, I took aim and fired at Shaw, my bullet shattering the rear window. A hand in white kid gloves appeared in the hole of broken glass, clutching a Colt .45. Hot lead whizzed past my ear, hitting a neon sign behind us and sending sparks and glass onto the screaming pedestrians below. I fired again, aiming for the glowing white figure I could just make out in the back seat of the car. If I squinted, I could see the top of Raven's head where she had thrown herself on the seat, trying to avoid the gunfire.

The car screeched to a halt in front of a huge Gothic cathedral. I leapt out of the car before Charles had time to stop, dashing after Shaw, who was yanking Raven up the steps and in the heavy wooden door. Charles stuck his head out the window.

"Erik, wait!"

"Stay here!" I yelled back. It had started to rain again, and I could feel the water plastering my hair against my forehead as I kicked down the church door, my gun drawn.

Shaw stood at the altar, his .45 directed at the chest of an elderly priest. Raven was seated, her hands around a swollen, twisted looking ankle she must have sprained while Shaw was pulling her around. Shaw turned to look at the noise of the door slamming open, lifting another gun and aiming it at me. His eyes were wide and crazed, his mouth splitting his face in a psychotic grin.

"Erik!" He laughed, beckoning me forward with the barrel of his gun. "Perfect! You're just in time for the wedding!"


	14. The End

I took a tentative step towards the altar. "Put the guns down, Shaw. It's over."

"Oh no. I'm afraid it's only just beginning." There was a loud click as he disengaged the safeties of the twin .45s. "Keep talking, father. We're running on a tight schedule."

"I… I…" The priest stammered. "I've lost my place."

Shaw rolled his eyes. "God, what would you people do without me? 'Sebastian Shaw, do you take Raven Xavier to be your lawfully wedded wife, and in the presence of your friends and family-'" He glanced over at me dismissively. "You'll have to do. 'Will you stand by her in sickness or in health, in poverty or in wealth, and will you shun all others and keep yourself to her alone as long as you both shall live?'"

"Well, do you?" The priest winced as Shaw shoved the gun harder into his chest.

"Of course I do." Shaw sniffed. "Say it to her, now. Get a move on."

"Raven Xavier, do you take Sebastian Shaw to be your lawfully wedded husband, and in the presence of your friends and family will you stand by him in sickness or in health, in poverty or in wealth, and will you shun all others and keep yourself to him alone as long as you both shall live?'"

Raven scowled up at him, rubbing her twisted ankle. "Fat chance."

Shaw sighed. "Don't be difficult, baby. Just say 'I do' and we can get all this over with." He moved his gun from the priest to her. "I'm going to count to three. One."

I crept towards Shaw, hoping against hope that he wasn't paying attention.

"Two."

I clenched my fingers around Magda, readying my grip on the trigger.

"Thr-"

Shaw's counting broke of in a screech and a bang as his leg exploded in a splatter of blood and bone. He toppled to the stone floor of the church, screaming in agony and clutching at the gory mess that used to be everything below his knee. I stared at Magda in confusion- she was silent and unfired in my hand. Where had the shot come from?

"I believe the correct phrase is, 'If anyone objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace.'" Came the cool, measured British voice from the doorway. "And I most definitely object, so I think this is as opportune a moment to speak as any."

Charles strode up the aisle, a pistol leveled at Shaw on the floor as the priest fled into the shadows behind the giant bronze crucifix. "The police are on their way. I'd ask you not to move, but I don't think you could even if you wanted to."

I helped Raven to her feet, transferring her to Charles as soon as he was close enough. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder, leaning on him as she winced when she put weight on her ankle.

I kissed him soundly on the lips. "Thank you, Charles."

He nodded, smiling at me wanly. "You're welcome. Sorry I didn't follow your orders."

"I didn't really expect you to."

He started moving towards the door, supporting Raven as they shuffled down the aisle. He looked back at me, still standing on the altar beside Shaw, who lay prone and whimpering on the slate ground.

"Erik. You don't have to do this. Moira and the rest are going to be here any minute." Even though he was begging, I could hear the note of resignation in his voice. He knew that what he said couldn't change my mind.

Shaw gasped up at me, his face ashen and drawn. "Please. Don't. I'll give you anything you want, anything I have!"

I held Magda at my side, inches away from the center of the bastard's forehead. I had waited a long time for this. What felt like eons.

"Please, Erik. You have it in you to be the better man." Charles took a step towards me.

I looked up, meeting his wide, hopeless blue eyes as my finger tightened on the trigger. "I already am."

Raven screamed, short, sharp, and shocked as Shaw's head burst into pulp. Charles flinched away, his face pained. My suit was splattered with flecks of blood and bone and brain, though the majority of what was left of Sebastian Shaw's face and skull adorned the altar below us.

I walked away from the corpse, passing Charles and Raven on my way to the door. I paused before I could leave, turning and extending my hand towards them.

"Come on. You should get out of here before the cops arrive."

Charles hesitated, his eyes gaze trained on my outstretched palm. After a moment of glancing between us, Raven reached out, draping her free arm over my shoulders. We shuffled out of the church, treading carefully. The steps were slick with rain, turning the grey slate black, our feet slipping and sliding as water dripped down our faces.

A beat-up patrol car screeched to a halt in front of us, its tires splashing in the puddles filling in the cracked asphalt of the road. Moira leapt out, swearing as rain pelted down on her silk dress, soaking the expensive fabric. Armando and McCoy followed, rushing up the steps to help Raven to the car. She sat down heavily on the leather seats, shivering as McCoy dropped to his knees to inspect her ankle.

I turned to talk to Charles, but Moira ducked in front of me before I could get a word out. She planted herself between us, hands on her hips and a scowl carved into her face. I could only watch helplessly as Charles walked away into the shadows.

"What am I gonna find in there?" Moira leveled her steely gaze at me.

"You already know."

She glanced over at the steps where Officer McCoy was draping a blanket over Raven's shoulder protectively. The heiress smiled up at him weakly. Moira sighed, her tense body relaxing into resignation as she passed a hand over her face. "I'll give you a head start, Erik, but it's going to be a while before you can show your face in the city again."

I nodded. "Thank you."

"Seriously, I mean it. You're going to need to lie low for at least a year. It's going to be a while until this blows over."

"I understand, Moira."

She smiled wryly. "You were the best cop I've ever known. I hope one day we can work together again."

"Me too." I said, though I knew that in all probability this would be the last time Moira and I saw each other. She waved me off, smoothing down her dress.

"Get a move on. I can only cover you for so long."

I nodded jerkily, looking around for Charles. I caught sight of him leaning against the stolen car, smoking a cigarette and watching his sister from afar. He looked a hundred years older than when I had met him- and I realized with a jolt that I had only seen him for the first time two days ago.

He watched through tired, half-lidded eyes as he saw me make my way towards him. "Well, this is a fine mess we're in, isn't it?"

"You're not in it. You and your sis are just innocent bystanders, I'm the only person who has anything to answer for."

"Just witnesses? Not accomplices?" He took a drag on his cigarette and then handed it to me, blowing smoke into the misty air. Tobacco and the taste of Charles' mouth mingled on my lips as I inhaled deeply, savoring what I was about to leave behind.

"No, Moira knows better than to charge you with anything." I dropped the butt to the sidewalk, crushing it under my heel. "I have to skip town. I don't know for how long."

Charles smiled wearily, knowingly. "That means forever, doesn't it? I know how this works, Erik, I'm used to people leaving."

I moved closer, bending to press our foreheads together. Reaching up, he grabbed my lapels and held on as we kissed, hard and deep and bittersweet. It was an angry kiss. We both knew it would be our last.

"Come with me." I said impulsively, my lips brushing against his as I spoke. "We want the same thing."

Charles laughed sadly, his breath hot and sweet and his eyes closed tightly as he shook his head against mine. "I'm sorry, my friend, but we do not."

He let go of my jacket- his jacket, too small and tight around my shoulders- and tucked Magda into place in my shoulder holster, out of view under the black folds. His face was harder to read than a Cyrillic bible as he stroked my cheek with the tips of his fingers, his touch barely there against my skin. I closed my eyes, trying to memorize the feel of his hand against my face. I kept them closed after the light graze of his palm disappeared, not wanting to have to watch him walk away. I opened them only when I could no longer hear the sound of his footsteps, his expensive leather shoes clacking on the wet concrete growing fainter.

I got into the stolen car, gritting my teeth as I slammed the door. I had wasted enough time already- in less than an hour the cops would be at my apartment, waiting for me with a pair of handcuffs and an arrest warrant. There was a dusty brown suitcase under my bed, and with the night's chaos it would be a while before anyone reported the car Alex had stolen missing. I could ditch it once I was over the state line.

Rain spattered against my windshield as I brought the engine to life, the wipers cutting a clear window through the distorted glass. I looked up into the rearview mirror, my hands tight on the wheel.

Charles was watching me, standing beside Raven and McCoy, who were obliviously engrossed in their own conversation. I jerked my head down, blinking hard and trying not to feel like Orpheus at the gates of the underworld as my foot pushed down on the gas.

It was hours later, driving away with my hastily packed suitcase on the back seat until everything behind me was swallowed by mist and fog, that I got up the nerve to look back at the lights of my city as they faded into the night.


End file.
